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"Come, pretty
birds, present your lays,
And learn to chaunt a
goddess praise;
Ye wood-nymphs, let your voices be
Employ'd to serve her deity:
And warble forth, ye
virgins nine,
Some music to my Valentine.
"Her
bosom is love's paradise,
There is no heav'n but in
her eyes;
She's chaster than the turtle-dove,
And
fairer than the queen of love:
Yet all perfections do
combine
To beautifie my Valentine.
"She's
Nature's choicest cabinet,
Where honour, beauty,
worth and wit
Are all united in her breast.
The
graces claim an interest:
All virtues that are most
divine
Shine clearest in my Valentine."
And learn
to chaunt a goddess praise;
Ye wood-nymphs, let your
voices be
Employ'd to serve her deity:
And warble
forth, ye virgins nine,
Some music to my Valentine.
"Her bosom is love's paradise,
There is no heav'n
but in her eyes;
She's chaster than the turtle-dove,
And fairer than the queen of love:
Yet all
perfections do combine
To beautifie my Valentine.
"She's Nature's choicest cabinet,
Where honour,
beauty, worth and wit
Are all united in her breast.
The graces claim an interest:
All virtues that are
most divine
Shine clearest in my Valentine."
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